Part 1: How one notorious criminal career says so much about Indianapolis’ brutal violence

Drug-related violence, witness intimidation and the killings of enemies fueled the rise of the Grundy gang, Indianapolis officials say. But trying to prove those allegations in court has proven difficult.
Dwight Adams/IndyStar

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IMPD officers investigate at the scene of a double fatal shooting at the Rural Street Pantry at Rural Street and Brookside Ave. Tuesday January 28, 2014. Victims were gunned down near their car in the parking lot.(Photo: Joe Vitti / The Star)Buy Photo

This article is the first in a three-part series. Part 2 comes Sunday. The story contains graphic descriptions of violence. The reporting is based on interviews, social media and Internet postings, public records and hundreds of pages of court documents. None of the killings described in this article resulted in murder convictions.

When police swooped in to bust a crack house on Ewing Street in 2007, neighbors came out of their homes to watch.

But those gathered on porches and sidewalks didn’t just gawk. Some applauded. Others cheered.

Richard Grundy III(Photo: Provided by IMPD)

One man explained the reaction this way: “The drug problem … let’s just say it can get out of control around here at times.”

Among the six men led out of that crack house in handcuffs was 18-year-old Richard Grundy III, whose life over the next decade would become emblematic of the city's failure to rein in the mayhem thousands of Hoosiers face on Indy's meanest streets.

As the city’s drug problem surged in 2015, Grundy and 10 others were charged in one of Marion County’s most wide-ranging murder and drug conspiracy cases. The sheer volume of violence attributed to Grundy and his associates was staggering.

In court documents, police linked his business to as many as 10 killings, including five alleged executions that prompted murder charges. But prosecutors were never able to take Grundy to trial in even one of the killings, and they would fail to win a single murder conviction against anyone associated with him.

Grundy, who pleaded guilty to dealing marijuana, has always denied any involvement in the murders.

Marion County Prosecutor Terry Curry and Keirian Brown, who formerly represented Grundy in that case, have radically different opinions on what happened. But they agree on one thing: The Grundy case helps explain the growing backlog of unsolved homicides in Indianapolis.

The reason the cases fell apart, according to Brown, was that police and prosecutors were not just incompetent; they also were driven by an agenda. He alleged in a court document that a key investigator fabricated and twisted facts to set up Grundy. Authorities needed a scapegoat for their own inability to deal with the escalating homicide count in Indianapolis, Brown said, so they targeted a group of rappers — who sold pot but were not violent.

To Brown, Grundy’s story reveals the cost of poor police work. Cops marginalize black victims killed on the streets or go after the wrong people, he argues, and that leaves the real killers on the loose, emboldened to kill again.

Curry acknowledges mistakes, but said the prosecution was successful in disrupting the violent gang. He added the Grundy case reveals many of the obstacles police and prosecutors encounter daily. Interstate drug deals. Gangs killing to protect profits. Retaliation for those killings. Witness intimidation. A no-snitch code. Terror-stricken neighbors. And the uncertainties of police work itself.

The trail of court records and social media posts in Grundy's wake reveal an enigmatic young man, whose parents both spent time in prison for drugs. He is a self-avowed gangsta with rap music ambitions, a bombastic high school dropout who flashes stacks of cash, calls out witnesses and preaches love of family, praise for God and revenge against snitches on a Facebook page where he posted as Ricky Rich.

Whatever the truth about Grundy’s guilt or innocence of specific crimes, the events that spun out of that crack house in 2007 — and the police response to them — illustrate many of the methods, and much of the madness, responsible for the increasing number of unsolved homicides in Indianapolis.

Today's chapter, the first of three, examines the drumbeat of violence on the city's streets.

'Dis just today’s paper suckas'

An IndyStar analysis of crime records shows that 35 percent of all killings involved the drug trade in 2015 and 2016. One homicide detective said the real number may be higher than 80 percent. Grundy is one dealer among many.

As if to hint at things to come, Grundy spent only one night in the Marion County Jail after his 2007 arrest at the crack house. Charges that carried a potential sentence of 50 years were dropped after prosecutors tried — and failed — to persuade another defendant to roll on Grundy. Instead, the man held tight to a no-snitch code and went to prison for seven years.

Grundy's appreciation showed in a 2014 Facebook post after the man's release from prison.

“My dude just TOUCHDOWN been down since 07 he was my door MAN on 10th St, offer him probation. To TURN states against me instead he took 14ys on the chin like a real MAN, death. Before dishonor. That snitch. S--- we DON’T honor welcome home.”

In the eight years following that bust, Grundy was arrested and charged at least six other times in Marion County. Many of the charges also were serious, including multiple drug and gun cases. Grundy caught breaks in them, too, collecting only five misdemeanor convictions. He also picked up a low-level felony cocaine conviction that sent him to prison for a little more than two months in 2010.

On Facebook, Grundy celebrated his release and the dismissal of a charge for carrying a handgun without a permit.

“Today was a good day finally a freeman,” he wrote on Oct. 19, 2010. “Beat da pistol case today I’m finally off everything ... ."

By that time, Grundy developed a connection in Arizona and would frequently crisscross the country. In December 2010, Grundy and another man were detained on a train in Albuquerque, N.M. More than 40 pounds of marijuana were stuffed in two duffel bags. Federal officials declined to comment, but there is no record of Grundy being charged in the case. Two years later, in February 2012, police in Texas pulled over two eastboundcars, and found more than 5 pounds of pot stashed in one of the trunks. Grundy was charged with conspiracy to commit dealing marijuana.

Those busts, according to court records, appear to have prompted Grundy to turn to a new method. Over the next three years, investigators allege, he used commercial parcel services to ship as much as 4,000 pounds of weed from Arizona to be sold and smoked on the streets of Indianapolis. That could amount to a street value of $16 million, based on the prices quoted by a Grundy associate to police.

The profits appeared plentiful in Grundy’s social media posts. A shirtless Grundy, flipping the bird as he fans out a thick stack of cash, makes the point in one boastful post from 2012: “Dis just today’s paper suckas catch up.”

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Richard Grundy III flashes a large wad of cash in this photo posted on his Facebook page. Grundy, a convicted drug dealer, claimed it was one day's take and taunted "suckas catch up."(Photo: Tim Evans/IndyStar)

Despite spending lavishly on clothes, strip clubs, travel and partying, Grundy and eight of the others charged in 2015 in the drug and murder conspiracy had no visible means of support, investigators said.

Court documents and Grundy’s posts made it clear he earned his cash hustling on the streets. And it was a small fortune, as much as a guy with a GED might make in 20 years working the minimum-wage grind.

Several crew members used Chase bank accounts and prepaid debit cards, making sizable deposits in Indy, followed by similar-sized withdrawals in Arizona. In just four months at the end of 2012, at least $76,000 moved through three such accounts. During 2013 alone, according to investigators, at least $94,000 was moved using 68 debit cards.

The risks didn’t escape Grundy. On Facebook, he often bragged about truly living the gangster life as opposed to other poser rappers. In one post, Grundy expressed hope that music would provide a way out of the lifestyle he saw leading to death or prison.

"I know a lot of people can't wait to get that call to here that I'm in jail or dead ... ," Grundy wrote. “me and my brothers gone make it with this rap s--- unlike a lot of local rappers we livin this s--- every day like it or not … nobody wants to die or spend the rest of my life in the cann so it's a must we make it out this bitch !!!!!!!”

What Grundy’s attorney portrayed as a bunch of friends united by a love of pot and rap music, prosecutors claimed was an illegal, profit-making enterprise that Grundy would kill to protect.

'I RESPECT DA SHOOTER'

Police and prosecutors say fear keeps many witnesses from testifying. It’s a struggle that leaves killers on the street, and helps explain why Indianapolis police make arrests in only about 40 percent of the criminal homicides. Some witnesses are reluctant to testify because they, too, are involved in criminal activity. In other cases, witnesses have been shot before trial.

At 3 a.m. on May 1, 2011, a dozen people were hanging around in the courtyard at the Phoenix Apartments on the city’s northeast side. The crack of gunfire pierced the night.

Michael Lacy lay dead.

But only two witnesses — Lorenzo “Scooter” Clark Jr. and another man ­— claimed to have seen anything.

Encouraged by his pastor, the man who witnessed the shooting with Clark went to police two days after the shooting. Inside a police station at 1:15 a.m., IMPD detective Greg Hagan handed the witness a series of photographs. Among those pictured was Grundy’s cousin, Adrian Bullock, then 20.

The man studied the photos. He circled the picture of Bullock.

Underneath, he wrote: “Shot Mikey.”

Prosecutors charged Bullock with murder, but Clark and the witness who identified Bullock would never testify against him in court. On Jan. 28, 2012, as Bullock’s murder case moved through court, Grundy posted what sounded like an ominous warning on his Facebook site.

Grundy didn’t stop there. He started attending his cousin's court hearings. And he posted Clark’s witness statement on his Facebook page. The statement was not part of the public record, but was turned over to the defense team as part of the discovery process. The Facebook posts, mentioned in court filings, have been removed, but court documents indicate they were critical of Clark.

Not long after, on March 11, 2012, police were called to a house where Clark was living. Someone had shot about 20 bullets in a tight pattern on the exterior wall of Clark’s bedroom.

The investigating officer’s report said the shooting was not random. Scooter’s “room was the intended target,” it said. A week later, according to court records, the home was sprayed with bullets again.

After that, the other witness in Bullock’s murder case appeared to be getting cold feet. He missed several appointments where he was supposed to be interviewed by Bullock’s attorney.

Afraid they were losing the witness, prosecutors asked the judge to place Bullock in solitary confinement for distributing the state’s witness list. They also asked that Grundy be barred from future hearings because of his Facebook posts.

While a judge considered the requests, Grundy took to Facebook: “YALL RESPECT DA N---- DAT GOT SHOT, I RESPECT DA SHOOTER.”

The 23-year-old witness again failed to show up to give sworn testimony, and the judge ordered him to be in court on May 8, 2012.

Three days before that hearing, the witness told police he was ambushed. He and another man left an east-side bar at 3 a.m. and were walking on Michigan Street. He said the other man left to make a drug deal, telling him to wait near the intersection of Michigan and LaSalle streets.

Lorenzo Clark Jr was killed in a double homicide in the 2400 block of Stuart Street on Feb. 20, 2014.(Photo: Provided by IMPD)

As soon as the man was out of sight, several men sprung out from between two houses and started shooting. The witness ran. But a bullet caught him. Wounded and afraid, he called 911 as the assailants disappeared into the night. Police found him several minutes later, bleeding from a wounded hand.

“I was set up … I was set up,” he told them.

After that, prosecutors renewed their request to forbid the defense from distributing evidence that was not made public. They called Grundy’s posts on Facebook “an extensive intimidation campaign which prevents the administration of justice.”

But witness problems continued. Clark, whose home had been shot up twice, failed again to show up for testimony at the end of August.

Two weeks later, a little after 1 p.m. on Sept. 11, 2012, Clark was driving south on College Avenue. As his 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix approached 22nd Street, a black car pulled alongside Clark. The driver raised a handgun, according to a police report, and started shooting. One bullet grazed the top of Clark’s head. Several others tore into the Grand Prix. The shooter sped away.

Clark failed to appear for yet another deposition later that September. His repeated absences prompted the judge to grant a motion from Bullock’s attorney to exclude Clark as a witness in the murder case. The other witness also failed to cooperate.

Bullock went to trial on Oct. 1, 2012. Without the two eye witnesses, the jury could not reach a unanimous verdict.

The murder charge was dismissed and prosecutors declined to try him again. Bullock walked free.

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Richard Grundy III used his Facebook page to show off a new tattoo that made his opinion of snitches crystal clear.(Photo: Tim Evans/IndyStar)

Two years later, police found Clark wounded in a home in the 2400 block of Stuart Street. Another man lay dead in the kitchen. Clark later died at Eskenazi Hospital.

The question of who killed Clark remains unanswered. But investigators have ascribed a motive: “revenge.”

A week after Clark's death, Grundy displayed a picture of a new tattoo on Facebook. It depicted a dead rat in a pool of blood, along with the words "Death before dishonor that snitch s--- I don't honor."

In a post explaining why he got the tattoo, Grundy said he "had to do it."

"... you tattle tale a-- n----- at all time high it seems like everyother day you learn that a n---- you taught was solid done went sour i don't care if the world accepts it, if you anit solid.you.want be around me !!!!!"

'im bou to smoke juju'

Much of the violence associated with drug dealers is the result of theft and robberies. The drugs and cash generated by gangs can be tantalizing targets for robbers willing to “hit a lick.” Revenge is often sought. In recent years such drug-fueled violence has spread fear and contributed to a 34 percent increase in the annual number of criminal homicides since 2012.

It was a hot and humid night when Indianapolis police officer Perry Renn received a call about shots fired in the 3900 block of Hillside Avenue.

Renn — who would later lose his life responding to a similar report — raced to the scene a few minutes after midnight on Aug. 31, 2013. Renn and other investigators found the street littered with 23 spent shell casings from two different guns. A nearby house had been hit by gunfire, and so had a Dodge Dakota parked out front.

Police found several bullet holes in the house next door, too. It was empty, but there was blood in front of the house. There was more blood in the living room. And another trail of fresh blood led along the south side of the house, as if a wounded person had fled the scene.

While at the house, Renn learned that Grundy went to Wishard Hospital with five gunshot wounds. He’d been hit twice in the right side, twice in the left hand, and once in the right knee. Around the same time, another shooting victim showed up at Community East.

It doesn’t appear any charges were filed in connection with the shooting. But Grundy wrote about it on Facebook.

“im not the type that’s bout to glorfly about being shot that’s some buster s--- I would of much rather been on the other side of the gun but I kow the way I live my life that anyday that could happen (live by it die by it) but what hurt me more than being shot its self was the sounds and looks on my loved ones face when they knew what happened …”

The shooting kicked off a bloody spree that would leave six more people dead and result in multiple murder charges that didn't stick.

Two months after Grundy was shot, the body of Kendrid Mintze, who ran in some of the same circles as Grundy, was found in the middle of an isolated street near I-70 and Rural Street. He had a head wound so massive it wasn’t immediately obvious it was the result of a gunshot.

Kendrid Mintze was killed Oct. 21, 2013.(Photo: Provided by IMPD)

Mintze’s killing would remain unsolved. But two years later, police would come to believe Grundy was behind it.

Like the victims to come, police alleged, Mintze had crossed Grundy. Their beef allegedly stemmed from stolen drugs.

Grundy, police said, was mailing thousands of pounds of marijuana to Indianapolis from Phoenix, Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

The drugs were delivered to abandoned houses, or the homes of associates across the city. Some may have been unaware of the contents, but for some who knew, the temptation of a quick profit outweighed the risk. But when shipments were stolen, police said, violence followed.

Means had a child with a woman who was in Marion County Jail. And on Jan. 28, 2014, she placed two calls to Means. They were captured, like all calls from the jail, in recordings.

In one of those calls, Means told the woman: “I’m about to ball on a mother------.”

Several hours later, just after 7 p.m., chaos broke out. And it would last for days.

On that a bitter cold January night, an armed man in a hoodie lingered outside the Citgo station and convenience store wedged onto a small rectangle of land between Rural Street and Brookside Avenue.

Surveillance video captured black-and-white images of the man, hands in pockets. Three men walk out of the store, and he slowly approaches. Then he opens fire. One of the men falls between two cars, scrambles to his feet and runs. The gunman fires again. The victim falls, rolls, rises up and stumbles forward.

CLOSE

Viewer discretion is advised. IMPD is seeking help in identifying a suspect in the double homicide of Tyrece Dorsey, 23 and William Davis, 25, on the city's Eastside gas station.
Danese Kenon/The Star

The gunman rushes another man, who cowers in a white Buick LeSabre parked near the store entrance. The assailant blasts away several times, resumes his chase of the first victim, then disappears into the night. The first victim lopes around the gas pumps, and staggers back to the store, where he opens the door and slumps down.

Police arrived in bulky jackets. Tyrece Dorsey lay dead inside the Buick. William "Jo Jo" Davis, who crouched inside the gas station, was rushed to the hospital. But he, too, was soon dead.

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Tyrece Dorsey and William Davis were killed Jan. 28, 2014, at the Citgo station at Rural Street and Brookside Avenue.(Photo: Joe Vitti / The Star)

Just after the shooting, Dorsey’s brother and best friend showed up at the scene.

That friend would later tell detectives about a longstanding beef with Grundy. He claimed Grundy already had wounded his brother in a shooting, but Grundy was never charged in the incident. He also told investigators he received a chilling call from Grundy while he was at the Citgo station: “I got shooters on deck and you’re next.”

But that information would come far later. No one offered much in the way of evidence on the night of the shooting.

Police questioned the two men who were in the car with the victims. Both said they didn’t see the killer’s face. That was the same claim made by two others who arrived at the Citgo station shortly before the gunfire. They had pulled into a parking space next to the Buick. It was Grundy’s wife and his father.

Richard Grundy Jr., 63, told police he was driving Amanda Grundy home, and they stopped at the Citgo station to buy lottery tickets.

Police eventually collected bits and pieces of conversations that Grundy crew members were having behind the scenes. The day after the shooting, Means allegedly showed an associate several thousand dollars, according to a confidential witness.

Richard Grundy Jr., the father of Richard Grundy III.(Photo: Provided by IMPD)

He said: “You know, taking care of that thing for Ricky.”

One day later, on Jan. 30, 2014, several media outlets posted the surveillance video online. Taylor, the rapper and longtime friend of Grundy, was in jail when he, too, called Means. Again, the conversation was recorded.

“That was me,” Means told Taylor. “I got three just for that.”

In the context of the killing, the snippet of conversation seemed to mean something, but outside of that context it proved little. And it would be some time before police even heard that recording.

Means had not yet been linked to the killings and, according to investigators, he was not done yet.

On the same day as the Citgo shootings, a 7-pound FedEx box went missing after it was shipped to an east-side home.

The woman who lived at the home told police she was unaware of the contents of the package, but her nephew, Julius “Juju” Douglas, knew Grundy. Soon after the box was delivered, one of Grundy’s cousins allegedly approached Douglas and another man, Carlos "Lil Scoot" Jefferson, demanding that a stolen shipment of marijuana be returned, police would later say.

According to a confidential informant, Grundy called Means on Jan. 31, 2014, a day after the Citgo shooting video was released. He said: “Take care of the problems.”

Less than 48 hours later, a little before 1:30 a.m. on Feb. 1, people around 35th Street and Ralston Avenue heard what sounded like a war breaking out. More than 30 shots were fired from a high-powered rifle and a .45-caliber handgun.

Someone called 911. IMPD officer Linda Roeschlein was among those responding. As Roeschlein turned south from 35th onto Hovey Street, her headlights illuminated a gory scene. The body of Jefferson, 22, lay sprawled in the street. In front of his body was a white Dodge pickup truck, the engine still running.

“Juju” Douglas, 23, slumped in the passenger seat, dead. He had been shot 19 times. Douglas still held a pistol — although he never got a chance to use it. A cellphone with a bullet hole through it lay below him. The hole matched a bullet wound on his face, as if Douglas had been trying to make a call when he was shot.

The locations of the spent shell casings led detectives to believe there were two shooters, firing from different spots.

The street cops were active that winter night, and seemed to get a handle on things quickly.

Means fled a traffic stop and was arrested about two miles from the double-homicide scene. There was a partial box of .45-caliber ammunition — the same kind found at the scene — in the Durango he was driving. A little after noon that day, Means called a woman from jail. She asked about the man who had been with Means the night before. She also asked what police found in the vehicle.

“They only found the box of bullets,” Means told her.

Six minutes into their conversation, Means asks the woman to initiate a three-way call with “Rick.” Grundy answers and chides Means for splitting up with the other man: “Ya’ll all was supposed to stay together.”

“We couldn’t. It was fast,” Means explained. “You know how it go Bro, ain’t no mother------ trying to do all that. … We got the main thing off me, so ain’t nothing to really cry about.”

Means and Grundy would ultimately be charged in the two double homicides. The charges against Grundy were later dismissed, while Means was tried twice in the Hovey Street murders. His first trial ended in a hung jury, and he was acquitted in the second. After that, prosecutors dropped the murder charges against Means in the Citgo shooting.

But in early 2014, the bloodshed was far from over.

Two more young men were killed April 4, 2014, as they sat in a car in the 9300 block of Beechtree Court.

The shooter was long gone, but a man who had been with Hunter and Carney shortly before the shooting came forward as a witness. He told police the pair had stolen a large quantity of marijuana and pills from a dealer the day before.

The night they were killed, the pair dropped the witness off before heading out to sell the drugs to two men in a dark blue Chevy Malibu.

Phone records revealed a close Grundy associate had made 16 calls to Hunter that day. They were the only calls between the two men in at least 30 days. And the last came at 11:15 p.m., just six minutes before the shooting.

Two weeks later, one of Grundy’s cousins was stopped driving a 2008 Chevy Tahoe in the 1600 block of N. Parker Ave. In the SUV’s console, police found a .40-caliber Glock pistol. Forensic testing later determined it was the gun used to kill Carney and Hunter.

By the second half of 2014, all of the killings police would charge Grundy with had occurred. Some people were pointing to Grundy, but the connections were tenuous. Police would eventually acquire the jailhouse telephone calls that seemed to explain who was involved. But they, too, were excerpts of larger conversations, and might be interpreted in different ways.

A federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives task force applied pressure. IMPD officers would pull over Grundy associates several times. Detectives would conduct surveillance. Federal postal officials would monitor shipments to the city. But willing witnesses were hard to come by.

Grundy was aware of the increasing heat from police — a concern he openly shared on Facebook.

"The police call us the worst of the worst they told me I'm a menace and they want me too die, but what the fail to realize I got a family and kids too so good luck with that s--- !!!!!" he wrote in a post Aug. 31, 2014.

In some ways, he appeared to be riding high. As Christmas approached, Grundy projected another side of his persona on Facebook. He often posted pictures of his children in their home. He posted pictures of his mother and grandmother as well, praising the lessons they had taught him. In one post he called himself "The Provider." And there were repeated references to God.

"God has truly blessed me and my family for these holidays, with that being said I want to show Jesus how thankful I am ..." he wrote.

Grundy explained his desire to help several struggling families.

"Not family or someone that I already help regularly it's must be a single mother who has kids but can't get em what they want for x mas... ."

The Grundy crew: Where are they now

Richard B. Grundy III

Age: 28

Nickname: Ricky Rich, White Boy

Police say Grundy is the leader of a drug trafficking gang, dubbed the “Grundy Crew,” that allegedly shipped thousands of pounds of marijuana from Arizona to Indianapolis. Officials attribute at least 10 killings to the group. At one time, he faced five counts of murder, but those and several other charges filed in 2015 were dismissed. He pleaded guilty to one count of dealing marijuana.

Status: Grundy was placed on probation in September for the marijuana-dealing conviction, and was arrested again in November on federal charges of conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance and conspiracy to launder money. He faces a sentence of 10 years to life in prison, and is being held without bond in a federal detention facility.

Adrian Bullock

Age: 27

Nickname: AD

Bullock is the cousin of Richard Grundy III. He was accused in 2015 of taking part in a drug trafficking conspiracy, and pleaded guilty to dealing in marijuana. He was also charged in 2011 with the murder of Michael Lacy. Prosecutors dismissed the charge after a trial ended in a hung jury.

Status: Serving three-year prison sentence on marijuana charge

John H. Means IV

Age: 25

Nickname: Lil Johnny

Means was charged with four counts of murder, accused of shooting and killing four people in January and February of 2014. Investigators alleged he was carrying out hits ordered by Richard Grundy III. Means was tried twice for two of the killings. The jury in his first trial could not reach a verdict, and Means was acquitted in the second trial. After that, prosecutors dropped the two other murder charges.

Status: Means was convicted in October of a gun charge and sentenced to 10 years in prison. He is scheduled to be tried in January on a second gun charge.

Eric D. Butler

Age: 27

Nickname: Lil E

Butler was charged in the 2015 drug and murder conspiracy, but those charges were later dismissed. He was arrested again in December 2016 on charges of dealing and possession of a narcotic drug, and faces trial in March.

Status: Free on bond.

Amanda Chowning Grundy

Age: 29

Chowning Grundy is the wife of Richard Grundy III. She was accused of participating in the drug trafficking operation run by her husband. Chowning Grundy was with her father-in-law at the Citgo gas station during the Jan. 28, 2014, shooting of Tyrece Dorsey and William Davis. She pleaded guilty to assisting a criminal in the drug conspiracy case.

Status: On probation

Richard B. Grundy Jr.

Age: 63

Grundy Jr. is the father of Richard Grundy III. Police said he was involved in the drug trade with his son. He also was mentioned in minor crime stories appearing in the Indianapolis Star as early as the 1970s, and was among 18 people arrested in a multi-state heroin bust in 1986. He pleaded guilty to dealing marijuana in the 2015 case.